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He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. I sha'n't utter a word. “But that’s quite different,” replied Anna. "I thought I heard a noise. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year.
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